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sit down and MOTHERFUCKING LISTEN, Grand Highblood application
|The Grand Highblood||
Posted: May 29 2012, 02:05 PM
Member No.: 119
Joined: 8-May 12
[warning for gore]
PERSONALITY: Subjugglators are famed for not only their brutality but their unpredictability, and the Highblood uses this to his advantage, often exploiting this reputation for his own gain. In his eyes, he has the right to do anything he damn well pleases to anyone else, as he is top dog - excluding Her Imperious Condescension, of course. There is something within him that has been hardwired from a very young age to respect the Condesce, and he is forever aware that he has to serve her no matter what. He sometimes imagines how beautiful her colour would look in his walls, but he quickly dispels such thoughts. After all, he has all of the other colours to choose from to keep his office bright and fresh. She is the only seadweller he can stand, and the only troll he respects.
That said, he is far more than a ruthless killing machine. While he despises lowbloods, he recognises their usefulness as slaves and usually only culls them if they have broken the law. He loved to frighten others, his slaves in particular - it puts him in a position of power, and he loves power.
Despite the insane act he puts on, most of the time he is very calm. He maintains a very strict control over his emotions, and likes to be as clear-headed as possible. Sometimes, however, he really will fly off the handle, and at those times, his anger is a traumatic thing to behold. He once even gave someone the troll equivalent of a heart attack because she were so scared when he shouted at her.
He absolutely despises anybody trying to undermine his authority; disrespecting him is the quickest way to find yourself with broken bones, or driven out of your mind by his chucklevoodoos.
DESCRIPTION: The Grand Highblood is taller than most other trolls, intimidatingly so, even without his undulating horns, which are a few feet long by themselves and can do a lot of damage if used to attack (which is rare for him, but not unheard of). Not only is he tall, but he is also muscular, having built up strength after countless sweeps of beating and culling other trolls.
He is never seen without his make-up, believing that to be disrespectful to the Mirthful Messiahs and very devoted to his faith (he would cull a troll on the spot for even the mildest of blasphemy). This makes the skin beneath his make-up a lot paler than the rest of him. His mane of hair is a tangled mess; he never takes care of it in any way. He likes it this way, as it can frighten many smaller trolls.
- He is not a good artist. He just enjoys to paint random splotches of colour with blood onto his walls as he feels too uncomfortable in a dull environment.
- If he had a Moirail he would take better care of himself, but he has always concentrated more on his career than his personal life. He has had relationships in the past, but never anything that has lasted very long.
- He loves using chucklevoodoos to force people's fears to the forefront of his mind, but he gets even more pleasure from inflicting fear naturally.
- He has occasionally partaken in cannibalism.
- He makes a point of keeping his claws and fangs as sharp as possible.
INFORMATION ABOUT YOU: My name's Izzie, I'm 18, female and English, and I am the person who mistakenly applied for Signless before orz. I rp in loads of fandoms, and have done so almost every night for many, many years, but this is my first time rping Homestuck outside of Skype or Facebook, so I hope I do okay. uvu I'm online at pretty random times, but at the moment I'm taking some time out of university so I'm usually online like all day and sometimes well into the night. My Skype is phdindance. I have the movie taste of John Egbert.
What would you wish for if you found a genie?
The scent was thick in the air - the scent of death, the muted, cloying stench of rotting blood. He adored it. It helped to calm him down when he was feeling stressed, and it reminded him why he loved his job so much.
The Grand Highblood ran his fingertips over the caked layers. It felt good under his skin. Crisp and dry, but with some remnants of life still attempting to cling to the substance. Some flakes off on his fingers, a disgusting dirt brown, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a sneer. He had too much brown on his walls. Too much brown and too much maroon. He preferred brighter colours, that reminded him of the vibrancy of life he was taking away. Highbloods had the prettiest colours. It was a shame he would never have the most beautiful of all as part of his morbid mural...
Oh, how he longed to see that gorgeous tyrian on his walls, to feel that cold fluid running through his fingers. He would do anything short of disobeying Her Imperial Condescension to obtain some, and there lay the conundrum. In his dreams he often sliced open her arm, cut off those repulsive fins or even slit that perfect throat and filled an entire ablution trap with her blood, bathing in it before painting his entire taskblock this brand new shade. Of course, in reality she would never be willing to harm herself for him.
He would never vocalise the wish, for fear of insolence, but every time a new descendent of hers was discovered, the Highblood desperately hoped that the Condesce would be too busy to cull them herself this time, and would let him do it instead.
He imagined the terror in the young tyrianblood's scent. He could almost taste it. The fear in their voice as they begged him not to hurt them...
"there's no escape. I couldn't let you go even if I wanted to," he would croon, "I have orders from Her Imperial Condescension to kill you. how does that motherfucking FEEL? that your own MOTHERFUCKING ANCESTOR wants you FUCKING DEAD?"
Maybe they might even fight back.
"how cute... do you really think you could win against me? there's a DAMN GOOD REASON I'm the Grand Highblood, you seadwelling shit," he would snarl as he closed his fist around their throat, slowly tightening his grip, crushing their windpipe, until they eventually stopped kicking and fell limp. And then he would drain their blood and add to the beautiful mural he had been creating over the sweeps.
"little bitch didn't think they would end up on my motherfucking WALLS, I bet... nobody ever fucking does. those fuckers don't appreciate the BEAUTY running through their veins..."
He knew it was a fruitless ambition, but a troll could dream. A troll could dream.
Posted: Jun 25 2012, 09:47 AM
YOUR LORD AND MASTER
Member No.: 114
Joined: 9-April 12
APOLOGIES FOR THE WAIT
GET POSTIN' CUZ YOU ARE THE GRAND HIGHBLOOD, YO
IT IS YOU
|The Grand Highblood||
Posted: Jun 25 2012, 01:39 PM
Member No.: 119
Joined: 8-May 12
WHOOOOOOOO!! Thank you <333